


i know you.

by arexasaurusrwar



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Fuck the Angels, Gen, More tags and characters to come, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, actual trash, do you know the show's timeline is like three months?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arexasaurusrwar/pseuds/arexasaurusrwar
Summary: in the lost year, she is a mundane. at least, until he shows up.





	1. the lost year

Luke won’t return her phone calls, but she has a key to his house, so she stays there for the night. He never comes home. When she calls Ms. Lewis, she’s told that her best friend is dead. Her home is burned down to the ground, and her mother is dead.

When she tries her other friends, they all seem surprised to hear from her. There hadn’t even been a single post on her social media in three months. No one had heard from her, and Rebecca won’t answer when she calls or texts about Simon. The only thing she knows is that she has nothing, and she is alone.

At first, she feels like she’s going crazy. She can’t say where she’s been over the past few months, or what she had been doing. She can’t remember how her mother died. She doesn’t remember going to Simon’s funeral, if there even was one. His mom stopped answering her calls.

Her life had been stripped away, whatever life that had been. It felt like coming down from a bad high, as if the world had been against her and now everything was just stopped. Yes, cars still moved and the clock on her phone said the time—speaking of, when did she get a new phone?

She doesn’t understand what else she can do, so she goes to the college of arts and asks to be re-enrolled. Apparently, she had a deferment set up for whenever her family business was cleared up. There was nothing she could do for her missed first term, but they’d allow her to enroll in winter courses to catch up for spring semester.

They help her find an apartment in student housing. She takes a single, even though it’s more money. She can’t bear to start friendships with anyone else, and it’s not like her mom’s life insurance isn’t free money. The lack of Simon’s presence, of her mother’s overprotective nonsense, makes her feel cold. There’s more, though, something that she cannot place. It’s like a void has opened up in her chest, reaching down to the furthest part of her soul.

So, she draws. Weird symbols with no meanings besides the ones she makes for them herself. She starts with a symbol of returned love. Something that will lead her to find those who are meant to be her friends, her family. Deep inside her, she wishes it could work.

After that comes courage. Something to keep her from sitting on the floor, crying all day. Symbols for strength, family, clarity, returning, creation, trust, endurance, fearlessness, knowledge, friendship, joy, loyalty, protection, recall, alliance,  remembering, sharing, success. They all come to her, one by one.

There is another symbol, one she has not named yet. She can’t figure out what it means, but she knows it’s important. The first time she sees it, highlighting off a sign downtown, she stops and stares for a good five minutes. The bouncer is looking at her like he’s been expecting her. She moves forward, but glares when she notices the way his eyes travel across her skin. He’s too interested in her, it makes fear bubble in her chest, so she leaves quickly.

Still, it doesn’t stop her from drawing the symbol. It haunts her thoughts, dreams, even her nightmares. She draws it on her arms, on her wall, on her art next to her signature. There are countless pages of her sketchbook, covered in it and similar symbols.

At this point, she knows it’s an obsession. She can’t bring herself to care, though. With no chance of her stopping, there’s nothing to be done. The drawings keep coming, and new symbols follow it. Eventually, her therapist tells her to stop. Tells her to reach within and focus on the feelings, rather than what she sees.

She paints her boy in the tower again. A snake in a club. Hallways full of bones. Simon, hanging upside down. A pentagram with people at each point. Eventually, the feelings come more and more until the art becomes feelings. She finds suspicion in greens, love in gold, the wrath within blacks and a red circle.

It develops into something deeper, more, when the emotions mix together. Pure white and metallic gold mix together for safety, adoration, belief. Greens and whites and maroon convert to fear and distrust. Blue and brown is all consuming, it takes everything in her not to rip it to shreds. It’s _love_. She doesn’t understand it, maybe never will, so she grieves for it.

The first semester passes quickly. Her symbols become lost memories. Anything connected to her feelings are abstract. Her whole world becomes intangible, really. It’s the only way she can continue. If she is unreachable, nothing can hurt her anymore.

 

* * *

 

Clarissa makes friends, eventually.

It starts off with Jason, the teaching assistant in her first summer class. They both reach for black at the same time, and he lets her have it first. He watches her paint while he waits, talking about how he had admired her work since she started her. He said that he was glad she came back before he graduated. He gives her advice on her painting when he sees something she can’t name, and she’s grateful.

She and Jason go to the gym, almost every day. She can’t tell him where her interest came from, doesn’t know why she can suddenly lift more than twenty pounds. He doesn’t mind, though, and challenges her to push herself. They make each other better, make each other laugh.

Abigail and Ingrid are next, as her neighbors. They are going out when they run into her, turn to each other, and invite her to come along. She almost says no, but Ingrid pushes before she can figure out a good enough excuse not to. They go to a club and she loses herself in the music. It becomes a weekly ritual on Fridays, and she even starts inviting them places too. She’s content.

She and Ingrid usually end up grinding by the end of the night. Ingrid is too drunk to feel safe with anyone but them, so she takes care of her when someone else is busy. Which, she usually is. Abigail just smirks at her and finds a girl to invite home. Once the clubs close, all of them go get Chinese food, including Abigail’s hookup. Ingrid calls her _sister_ , and nausea takes over all thoughts.

That’s where comes Samuel comes in. He pulls her hair back when she runs to the trash and gets her water. He’s cute, he’s sweet and gives her his number at the end of the night. Honestly, the way he talks about _Game of Thrones_ reminds her of Simon. She caves when he asks her on a date, because she never did with Simon and regrets it. It heals her in a way she didn’t know she needed. They go to coffee; at a new place rather than the one she went to with Simon. She laughs when he suggests his motorcycle and he rolls his eyes when she makes her way towards the subway. She’s okay. 

 

* * *

 

Her life starts over, like whatever trauma that happened in her past had simply vanished. She’s better, and the void is lessened. Still there, but not as soul crushing as before. She can breathe when she’s alone again. Her therapist lets her lower the anti-depressant dose when she is chosen for the student gallery that fall.

She doesn’t stop working until everything is perfect. Her friends take a back burner, but they don’t mind. Jason brings her whatever food she asks for, like the hero he is. Abigail drags her out of the studio whenever she needs a break and Ingrid is never without her coffee order. Samuel is a different story. He’s just as busy, and eventually, they haven’t seen each other in three weeks without either of them noticing. There had been cancelled dates, missed sleepovers. They end it agreeably, but the void is back.

The gallery goes amazing, though, and it makes her feel supported. Even weeks after the opening night, people keep coming. She’s even noticed a couple of regulars. An Asian man with the brightest smile and blue streaks in his hair comes by every Wednesday and calls her biscuit. A priest comes on Sunday nights to talk with her and helps her when she breaks down and cries into his shoulder. Then there is the blonde boy.

He picks an art piece and sticks with it the entire time he’s there. The first few nights, it’s always her earlier pieces. The ones with her symbols hidden inside. He moves to her heartbreak, something she titled Soulmate and he goes back to that one every visit, five times in a row. She promises herself that she’ll talk to him, the next time she sees him.

Little did she know that would be on the closing night. He hadn’t come back for a month. When she spots him, leaning against the pillar and just staring at her, that’s the moment something changes.  There’s a good thirty seconds where she can’t pick up her jaw. He doesn’t notice, because he doesn’t think she’s looking at him too. The boy turns around, looks so much younger when he meets her eyes again. He’s scared, so she walks up to him.

“Sorry,” She starts, with a nervous smile. “I didn’t mean to spook you.” She laughs, like a part of her knows that it shouldn’t be possible. This boy looked fearless, but here he was, reduced to emotions. His eyes seem like they’re boring into her soul. _Blue and brown,_ her brain supplies, unhelpfully.

He doesn’t stop moving away from her, whispers, “You can see me?” This boy has no control over his expression. He’s stunned by her, and she doesn’t know why. What had she done to make him so shaken by her? Her art was good, but it in no way at the power to illicit this response from someone.

So, she smiles, tilts her head. “Of course, I can see you.” He mouths a word; it looks like _no_ , but she was never good at reading lips. That had always been more Simon’s gift. The boy— _Jace_ , her thoughts supply—runs away from her.

It takes her a second, to process. This is someone she knows but doesn’t know how she knows. He’s important—no, he’s _everything_. She’s letting him walk out, but he’s _hers_. Whoever he is, that’s clear to her. He doesn’t get to leave. Not when she finally remembers something.

By the time she catches up to him, he’s in the alleyway. It feels familiar but also like it’s the first time they’ve ever interacted. He’s going too fast, so she yells for him. Once he stops, and she catches up, she can’t stop shaking her head. “Don’t I know you? From somewhere?” 

“No. I don’t think so.” He’s refuting her, rejecting her, so she interrupts.

“No, I do. I—” She pauses, her hand reaching for him but not touching, not yet. Maybe her mind is right? “You’re Jace, right?” His eyebrow twitches, the hope in his eyes are shining. Instantly, she falls in love with his smile. Her void is gone, now. It’s been filled with whatever spell he cast on her. Her heart is loud in her ears. He agrees with her, but she has to confirm again. They’re both nodding now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, ah, I’m Jace.” She can’t help but smile back at him, love filling her entire being.

 _Clarissa Fray_ , her mind says, but her mouth spits something else out. “I’m Clary.” The name, it solidifies her. There’s something nagging at her, because she knows what’s on his neck, but she doesn’t know how. She doesn’t even understand how she remembers him, except the fact that she knows him. Knows every inch of him. He turns from her, when he notices her staring.  “What are these tattoos on your neck?” She hesitates, but pushes herself forward, moving his shirt to get a better look at the symbol she already knows is there.

With her question, he finds her eyes again. He’s smiling again, and they stay like that, for too long. She doesn’t panic, because this is right. Her body remembers this, like muscle memory.


	2. the downworld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clary seeks out those least likely to push her away.

The fog didn’t clear immediately.

Jace was the clearest, everything about him, even if the finer points were harder to pinpoint. Clary remembered how they met, how she felt about him, how he felt about her. She knew their history and how in love she was—is with him.

Not fully comprehending it, she hears him make an excuse to leave, because Jace remembers too and she can hear the fear in his voice. She said not to let her seem them, any of them, but especially not him. _What would the Angels do?_ Clary recalls her words. She smiles, slightly. The Angels can’t do anything to her now.

With the greatest defiance she looked to the sky “You had your turn. Now watch me.”

She had killed Jonathan because it was the right thing to do. The love she felt for Jace wasn’t wrong, though.  Raziel was wrong for taking him from her. She had done what he had asked, and his power had _failed_. She was done listening to him. They had left her with nothing and expected her to thrive.

 

* * *

 

Clary makes her way to the Jade Wolf, or, at least, where it used to be. Clary sees a young woman through the window of Taki’s and goes inside. “Sorry, we’re not open yet.” The words die in her mouth when she turns around.

“Maia.” Clary breathes the name, forcing the memories to come back to her. Maia, her best friend’s ex. Maia, the werewolf. “Where’s Simon?” Even though she remembers Jace, mostly remembers Maia, Simon is still a mystery to her. Clary could feel the truth in her heart, though, he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. There's no way she would've allowed Simon to die.

The Alpha’s eyes flash, and Clary doesn’t flinch. Maia smiles, then. “Took you long enough, Fairchild.” They laugh together, and Maia makes her food. “Simon’s alive,” She says as she cooks. Clary’s fear is radiating off her. “He’s okay, he’s dating Isabelle now. They’re happy.”

 _Isabelle_. Clary mulls the name over in her mind, and it’s meaning lands on _sister_. “Maia, it’s been a year. It’s been longer than I was even in that world.” Do they even still care? They didn’t try to find her, didn’t fight for her. She was alone for an entire year and Jace only lurked in the shadows.

Maia shrugged, “Simon sent Raphael to look after you, who told your professor about your issues and to recommend a therapist.” Clary is frozen as more memorizes of Simon as a vampire surface. Raphael’s treatment of him, making Simon a vampire without his consent. Maybe they felt better off without her, maybe that's why they listened to her instead of fighting for her.

The voice cut through her thoughts, “Clary.” When her eyes met Maia’s, the wolf seemed relieved. “It’s okay. He’s okay, he still loves you. Constantly misses you.” Maia sets out a plate in front of her, “It's named after you. Tell me what you think.”

They stay like that for the next few hours. Clary eats while she remembers more about vampires and werewolf. She asks for seconds, because she doesn’t want this to end. It helps that the food is good. Maia was a good place to start, because Maia is easy. There’s no heavy emotions between the two. They’re just two friends, reconnecting. There is no promise of being parabatai or lost soulmate love.

When she stands, she’s still smiling. “I’ll be here opening night.” Maia tells her that she had been at her gallery opening night too, but left before Clary noticed. The obvious pride the wolf felt for her was intoxicating. Clary wasn’t used to it, even with her art school friends. Maia understood something about her they never could.

 

* * *

 

Magnus isn’t easy to find, but she recalls the way to his apartment in Brooklyn is and she knows how to make him come at her with everything he’s got.

Which, in hindsight, was a really bad idea.

A portal appears and Magnus is there, blasting her with magic. She’s thrown back, out the doors and into a wall. Her back erupts in pain, she thinks her shoulder popped out of it's socket and there's a breeze on her back where her shirt ripped. When he realizes what he’s done, he whimpers. “Biscuit?”

Clary gasps to get air back into her body. She hadn’t been hit that hard in a year, and she wasn’t used to it anymore. Magnus comes to her aid, pulling her back onto her feet and reminding her to take deep breaths. “I should’ve expected that,” Clary lets out a hollow laugh when she finally feels up to talking again.

He sets her down on a couch and fishes a stele out of the coffee table, “Alec leaves these all around.” Clary takes it gratefully. Her first rune is _Enkeli_. It has to be, for the healing rune to have the power she wants. So, she rips her shirt even more and draws the angelic power on the back of her shoulder. She doesn’t want to see it, not if she doesn’t have to. Then she draws the _Iratze._ She doesn’t choose her neck, this time. It’s lower, over the place where the mark she had shared with Jonathan used to be.  “So, you remember, then.”

“Not everything,” Clary admitted, looking up at him and tilting her head. She was happy to be right about her connection with her brother, that it wasn’t some made up story from her childhood. “But you know my memory better than I do, and not all things are lost.” With the rune’s activation, she can bear to stand again and moves to make Magnus a drink. “I want to come home, but Jace is scared. How do you get a Shadowhunter to go against the rules for love?”

The warlock was the best to ask about this. Alec wouldn’t like him helping push Jace back to her. He would be scared of the Angel’s punishment, scared of what the Clave might think of her undermining the Angel’s will. Magnus, however, didn’t have that problem and was consistently about free will and love.

He takes the drink from her, tilting his head in thanks. “I don’t think I can help you this time around.” He downs it in one, looking troubled. “I’m the High Warlock of Alicante, I’m mostly bound to your laws too.” Clary didn’t remember anyone having that title, doesn’t know how Magnus got there, or if he had always been there. “Happened over the past year, little one, don’t fret.”

His words settle her once more, but now she’s at a loss for what to do. Jace is her lifeline, he brought her back from so much. She couldn’t just go on living without him, and she refused to give up her runes again. “They tried to stop me, Magnus. They failed.”

Jace hadn't been punished for his enhanced powers. Clary had made a few runes that shouldn’t have been made, the necromancy rune being her most regrettable. She wouldn’t apologize for sunlight, portals or saving the entire world. For one mistake, she had to leave her entire life behind? She had to be alone forever? If Ithuriel were still alive, he would have stopped Raziel’s wrath. He would have protected her, like she protected him.

She could hear the hope in his voice as he asked, “Don’t you think, just maybe, Raziel’s forgiven you?” Magnus couldn’t bear to think of what will happen if Clary was compared to her father. She’s too angry at the Angels for her own good, and the Clave won’t like it.

“Forgiven me for what?” Clary hissed, throwing her arms up, “For saving the world from Jonathan? This is my ability! I should be able to use my gift when the situation calls for it! And Shadowhunter’s should be able to portal or have runes that destroy evil! The Angel was wrong for not giving us those abilities in the first place.”

Magnus grabbed her wrists, “Clary. Calm down.” When she took a deep breath, he continued. “You can’t say these things. Be smart. The Clave will allow a forgiven Shadowhunter back into it’s ranks with ease and celebration. Especially when that someone also stopped a great evil from slaughtering their ranks. What they won't allow is another Morgenstern trying to change their ways through pure force.”

She could see what he meant, and she didn’t want to be Valentine. If she was going to change things, allow runes back into the light of day, she couldn’t anger the higher ups. Doesn't mean she'll like it, though. “I won’t walk into Idris screaming about how Raziel is a dick.” Magnus snorted, wrapping his arms around her.

“I missed you.” He closed his eyes, letting himself have this for a minute. Then he pulled away, grabbing her hand instead. “Wanna go freak out my husband?”

Clary shook her head, “Not yet. I should build myself up to meeting everyone. I started with the Downworlders; I should see Simon before anyone else.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “Luke. He’s, he’s a Shadowhunter again, right?” She looked at Magnus, confused. “He wasn’t at Maia’s new place, and I can’t remember where he went. He didn’t come home, after. I stopped leaving messages, eventually.”

Nodding, Magnus hugged her again. She looked so lost. “He’s married Maryse. Just got back from their honeymoon. He’s happy, he misses you. I bet that he had some wolves check on you from time to time.” Clary smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. None of them fought for her, not like they should’ve. She would’ve found a way to save them, but they left her to be alone. Even her _dad_.

She pulled away from him, then. “Okay. I should go.” Clary couldn’t look him in the eyes again. Maybe it was better, not remembering, then having the pain of all of them leaving her again. Even Jace didn’t accept her back. He had run away from her.

“Biscuit, we just did what you asked.” His voice was soft, hurt. “If I had known—”

“It’s fine, Magnus.” She’s lying again, like she did that night when she let their happiness come before her own. Clary walks out the door, “I’ll see you soon, okay? Don’t tell Alec!” She’s gone before he follows her out, using a getaway portal so she couldn’t be followed.

 

* * *

  

Being in her apartment centers her again. This has been her life for the last year. This, she knows, is real. There’s no monsters that lurk in the shadows of her memory, just her friends laughing over dinner and loud music pumping through the speakers while she paints. She doesn’t see Simon, smiling with fangs or dead in a coffin.

She can stay here, in her own little bubble of humanity, for as long as she needs. Nothing can hurt her in the mundane world. If there’s one thing she’s always been able to solve, it’s human problems. Raziel can’t take this from her.

Not that it matters, anymore. This life is over again. She’s not meant to be a human. She has pure angel blood coursing through her veins. Clary Fairchild was born to be a Shadowhunter. No divine will or even her own can stop that.

Clary stretches her muscles out again, going though each one and flexing, testing it. She kept up her training as a normal art student. Running, lifting, even took up boxing. It would take awhile to get back into stabbing demons but, she had always been a natural at that. She would recover her training quick enough.

Did she want to, though?

She had loved Samuel. Not as much as Jace, Clary doubted she could love anyone as much as she loves Jace, but it had been enough. She had friends, people who cared about her and wanted to see her succeed in a normal life.

Clary screamed to herself.

Whatever would end up being her life, she didn’t understand what to pick. She had two parts of herself, trying to split her in half. She wanted to be a Shadowhunter and get her old back life. She didn’t feel like she could leave her college experience with a multitude of boys and drinking at the clubs behind, though. She had people who loved her in both worlds.

There was a responsibility that came with being a Shadowhunter, one she couldn’t ignore, even if she wanted to be artist, human Clary. It wasn’t in the cards for her, not the way it needed to be. “First things first,” She muttered, drawing a portal rune. It was time to go home.


	3. the shadowhunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> she goes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay sorry y’all I fell in love with my summer courses and lowkey let this get into the backburner. where was this going again?

She didn’t know where Simon lived anymore, Maia hadn’t explained that far. She couldn’t remember where he lived when she left either. So, the portal was to the Institute. Just outside of it, at least. Freaking out everyone by forcibly portaling in would be a mistake. She didn’t want random Shadowhunters trying to kill her.

Clary stepped through, her eyes widening as the space cleared into the view of the Church. Love filled her chest; this was her _home_. It was where she belonged.  Nothing could take this away from her again. She wouldn’t let it.

Feeling a bit snarky, she knocked.

When the door opened, Clary tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Underhill.” She could place the name, but nothing the blonde had done was anything memorable. He was one of Alec’s favorites, though. No matter, though, he was in her way and that was a mistake.

Pushing her way past, and ignoring his yelling, she walked through the halls of the Institute. Memories overtook her. The way to the training room, where Jace and Izzy and Alec taught her everything she knew. Interrogating her father and brother in the prisons. Lunches with her real family, laughing with Alec and Izzy. Going to the greenhouse with Jace.

So much had gone on in this building.

It’s where she found herself, twice now. It saved her life, really. The good memories outweighed the bad and she couldn’t wait to make new ones too. Missions with Luke, as a real Shadowhunter father-daughter team. Making good on her promise to Isabelle to become _Parabatai_.

“Clary?” His voice drew her out of her thoughts, and her breathing became heavy. The tears welled in her eyes immediately. _Simon_. Simon dying, Simon hating her, dating him, breaking his heart, the mark of Cain, Simon saving her life again and again.

They ran to each other, but Clary jumped first. She was wrapped around him like a koala, her feet not even close to the ground. “ _Simon_.” She couldn’t stop her tears from turning into sobs. Her whole body was shaking, but Simon wouldn’t let her fall. She could count on him, always. He had been there as a child, and he was going to be there when she died. She pulled away, but her arms never left his skin, instead sliding her hands down from his neck to trail down his arms to his hands. He was solid, and really there. This wasn’t a memory. “ _Si_.”

The person in question couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked shocked, which didn’t surprise her. “You remember. _You remember_ and you’re here.” He starts whispering then, “I missed you, Fray. So much.” He’s crying now too, which was absolutely awful because as a vampire he cries blood. Clary forgot about that. It was a little unnerving, but it didn’t make her forget who her best friend was.

“I’m home.” She couldn’t stop her tears, and apparently neither could Simon. They were in their own little world during the reunion, so she could barely make out the blurry figure of a woman behind him. “Isabelle?” She asked, blinking away the water in her eyes. Simon let go of her, then, letting his girlfriend reunite with Clary too.

“How are you _here_?” Isabelle Lightwood hadn’t seen any Shadowhunter beat the will of an Angel before, let alone _the_ Angel. She was scared, but happy. Her best friend was back, how could she not be happy? She couldn’t help her wariness, though. She looked at Simon, “It’s really her?”

Clary’s heart broke. A sob escaped her throat, “Izzy, it’s me.” _Please_ , she thought, _please see me._ The other woman’s eyes roamed Clary’s marks suspiciously but settled on her eyes. She nodded then, moving to hug her lost friend.

“Jace thought he—I thought he had gone crazy.” She couldn’t stop shaking her head, even as she was hugging Clary. “You said that you couldn’t come back.” Isabelle pulled away and repeated herself, in awe of the woman in front of her, “How are you _here_?!”

Laughter erupted from both of them, cries intermingled with the noise. Clary reached back, over to Simon, pulling them back into a bigger hug. She hadn’t known what she was missing until it was in front of her.

All those times over the past year, where she had felt lonely even in a group of people. When she felt alone in the middle of a club, or when she went to any café. It was because of them. She was missing them, all of them, even without the memory of it. They were her family.

She couldn’t get pulled back to Jace, not yet. That would take a lot, and she was already in destress. She needed to get through everyone before seeing him again. So, for now, she ignored Isabelle’s mention of him. He had most likely run to Alec, trying to understand what had happened and why she had recognized him so immediately. Why her sight was back, why she could remember his name.

“I need to see Luke.” She needed her _dad_. The big idiot had hidden from her for a year. She was totally going to tackle him to the ground. She didn’t know how, yet, he was a giant, but she was going to. “Where is he? Magnus said he got back from his honeymoon.”

Isabelle shook her head, “He’s still in Idris, checking back in with Alec.” At Clary’s confusion, Isabelle smiled brightly. “Alec is High Inquisitor.” She bumped shoulders with the redhead, “So you have an in with the Clave. I don’t think you’ll get too much trouble, coming back home.”

Clary shook her head, “I can’t—I can’t go back there, not yet.” Having to pretend to respect their Angel would be hard enough. Doing that while seeing Luke for the first time? Impossible. Isabelle opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted.

“You never answered her.” It was Underhill, from behind them. His arms were crossed, and eyes narrowed. “Ma’am, we don’t know how this—”

“I was forgiven.” Clary hissed, glaring at the annoying man. “I got my sight back, I remembered Ja—someone,” She pulled down the edge of her shirt, showing off the healing rune. “I have my runes back.” Clary did her best to keep her breathing steady, but she was already emotional and didn’t need to fight a challenge like this so soon.

Luckily, it didn’t turn into anything else. Isabelle was on her side. “As the Head of this Institute, I have say over who stays here. If anyone has any problems with Clary being _home_ , you take it up with me.” She cocked an eyebrow at Underhill, then looked around at the others in the control room. When no one spoke up again, she nodded. “Good.”

“I can take you to Luke,” Simon said quietly, seeing that Clary needed to leave. The panic and anxiety were obvious on her face. “Maryse’s, you think?” He asked Izzy, who only nodded. “Talk to your brother. Get Jace back here.” Clary didn’t much like being ignored, but she didn’t have the words to fight them for talking as if she wasn’t there.

When he turned his attention back to her, he took her hand. “Let’s go see your dad.”

 

* * *

 

Luke had been making out with his brand new wife when he heard the door go off. He growled at the interruption, because somethings never change. That stopped when Maryse gasped the name he hadn’t dared to say in so long, he actually dropped her. She caught herself before falling completely. She didn’t blame him for his reaction at all, but placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

He didn’t move, letting Clary make her way to him. “I thought you were _dead_. I didn’t get a call, a text, a _letter_. You’re my _dad_ , Luke.” The tears weren’t back, because all she felt was angry. She was seething, and it had been building up for awhile. “I don’t care what I told any of you. You should have _fought_ for me.”

“Clary—” He started, moving closer, only to stop when Clary placed a hand on his chest.

“I am not done!” She yelled, glaring up at him. “I would have fought for you. I would have found you. I never would have abandoned you.” She turns her glare onto Simon, “This goes for you too.” She lets the tears fall, now. “You have been my family since I was a child. For as long as I can remember, I had you two. Then, suddenly, I was alone. My mom was dead, Simon was dead, I couldn’t find Luke anywhere, and the police said he had been under investigation for _murder_. I couldn’t remember the last four months of my life, why my home had been burned to the ground.”

The men in front of her were kind enough to be ashamed. “I expected this from the Lightwoods. They were born, raised and continuously told that the Angel was everything but.” She looked at Luke, “You were a werewolf. You got abandoned by the Angel, you married someone the Clave stripped of everything.” To Simon, “You are a vampire. You have no reason to care what the Angel wants. And you _never came back for me._ ” It was heartbreaking, really. Knowing the lengths, she’d gone and would always go, for all of them without the feelings returned.

“You told me not to,” Simon defended himself weakly. “I had to remind myself of that every day, Clary. You told us no. I had to respect your final choice.” He shook his head, “I’m sorry, Clary. I didn’t know what else to do besides let you be. I had Raphael check in on you, get you help. It broke me, when he told me how unhappy you were.”

Luke sighed, “We didn’t know how to fix it, Clary. Nothing I knew of could benefit you in any way. Being around you, it was too risky. You could have gotten hurt; demons could’ve gone after you if I led them back to you. The whole Downworld knew to leave you alone, between Simon, Magnus and I. You _were_ under our protection. Always.”

Clary let the rage free, seeing only red. “I needed you! Not Raphael, not a therapist, not protection! You! My family!” She started punching Luke’s chest. “My mom is dead! You, both of you! Were dead! I was alone in this world! I wanted to die, Luke!” She sobbed then, almost falling to the floor. Luke caught her before she hit the ground.

“I love you, Clary. Always.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “I will always be here, and I was always there, even if you didn’t know it.” Clary was shaking again, she pulled out of his grasp. He looked hurt, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She shook her head, flinching when she felt Simon’s hand on her shoulder. Everyone was acting like they loved her so much, like they missed her as much as she missed them. None of them came for her. None of them tried to save her. She had gone to hell and back for Magnus, she had saved Simon’s life. No one could be bothered to try to save her’s?

Clary shoved Simon away, making her way out of the store. They all called for her to come back, even Maryse. She didn’t stop though. She was going to find the man who _had_ come to get her. The one who hovered, who didn’t listen to what she had wanted.

Didn’t that show his devotion? The fact that he couldn’t leave her, even though everyone else had? He was the one who deserved her attention, who she wanted to hold through her tears. He was what had brought her back. The fact that he just ran away had hurt, but they both needed time to process what they had done.

Beating the Angel was something huge, after all.

Making her way back to the Institute was easy enough. They didn’t hesitate to let her in or block her path. Which was lucky for them because she wasn’t in the mood to play.  


End file.
